Mask of Duplicity (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 1) (10 page)

She chose a volume quickly, and was on her way out when the person she had been hoping to avoid suddenly appeared in the doorway. In one hand he held a candle and in the other a bottle of brandy. He smiled when he saw her.

“Well, sister, this is an unexpected surprise!” he said warmly. “I must confess, I had thought you were avoiding me.” He surveyed her lazily, his eyes moving slowly upward from her bare toes to her face. She drew the shawl closer around her. His gaze made her feel as though she was standing naked in front of him, which was ridiculous.

“I came to get another candle, and a book,” she explained. “Now I’m going to bed.”

She had no choice but to move forward to pass him, and expected him to step away from the door. Instead he remained in the doorway, moving to one side so that she had barely enough room to get past. She shrank back against the doorpost as she left the room to avoid coming into contact with him, and interpreting her repugnance as fear he chuckled, although he showed no inclination to lay hands on her.

“Goodnight, Beth,” he said softly and mockingly as she achieved the comparative safety of the hall.

She did not answer, but walked away as fast as decency would allow. He stepped out into the hall to watch her, his gaze following her up the stairs until she turned the bend of the landing and was gone from sight. Then he uncorked the bottle of brandy with his teeth and moved into the library, kicking the door shut behind him.

The reply to the letter he had written a week before arrived the next morning, and if Beth had been present when he received it, Richard would probably have read it out to her immediately. But she had taken advantage of the break in the rain and had gone riding, not returning until halfway through dinner, which she then ate in the kitchen with the servants, although she knew he disapproved of such familiarity.

On reflection, he thought as he re-read the letter over a glass of brandy that evening, it was a good thing that she had not been there this morning. It had given him time to think about the best way to reveal its contents to her. He reached over to replenish his glass, and noticed to his surprise that the bottle, started only last night, was almost empty. He did not recall having drunk that much the previous evening, yet must have, unless the servants were stealing it. He doubted they would be that stupid. They were well and truly under his control now.

It seemed his sister was also learning to respect him, which was good. He thought back with pleasure to the previous evening, when she had shrunk away from him. That, coupled with her general avoidance of him over the last two days, made him wonder why he hadn’t hit her weeks ago. Clearly the realisation that he was willing to punish her physically if necessary had been all that was needed to bring her into line. He was certain now that she would acquiesce to his proposal. He would show her the letter first thing in the morning. It was a little late to do so now. She would no doubt already be asleep. He toyed with the idea of fetching another bottle of brandy from the cellar, then decided against it. He wanted to be clear-headed when he faced his sister in the morning. He would have an early night instead.

Once in his room, he undressed down to his shirt and then sat on the edge of the bed. He wasn’t at all tired, he realised, and excitement at the thought that all his plans were about to be put into action rendered even the idea of sleep impossible. He turned the letter over in his hands, and then, suddenly decided, stood.

Outside Beth’s room he hesitated, his hand raised to knock, then thought better of it. Instead he turned the handle carefully and opened the door slowly. If she was asleep, he would go away, he thought.

He was so quiet that she did not hear him at first. She had her back to the door, and was bending down to retrieve her shoes and place them under the bed. He was greeted with the sight of her long legs and buttocks, outlined perfectly by the thin cotton of her nightgown, back-lit as she was by the candle on the writing table in front of the window.

He drew in his breath sharply at the unexpected sight, and she whirled round, holding her shoes in one hand. Her eyes opened wide when she saw him standing clad only in his shirt, which reached almost to his knees. His hair was unbound and hung straight and loose to his shoulders. With his dark colouring he looked distinctly gypsyish, and she moved back a step.

“What are you doing here?” she said shortly. Her hair was also loose, and rippled down her back in thick silver-blonde waves, almost to her hips. Her shift was open at the throat, revealing a tantalising glimpse of creamy white breast. He stared at her, mesmerised. He had never seen her like this before and felt an involuntary stirring in his loins. To cover his confusion, he waved the paper in his hand at her.

“I...I received this letter today,” he stuttered. His mouth was dry, and he licked his lips to wet them.

She made no move to take the letter from him, instead crossing her arms over her chest to shield it from his gaze.

“Put it on the table, if you want me to read it,” she said, indicating the small table at the side of the bed, “then leave.” It was a command, and he felt the anger rise in him, pushing aside the uncertainty of a moment ago.

“It’s from Cousin Isabella,” he elaborated, his voice steadier now. “I wrote to her last week, telling her that we are interested in renewing our relationship. She is delighted, and says that the whole family would be happy to see us at any time we choose to call. We will call next week, but I’ll leave it to you to choose the day.” There. He had established his authority, and in view of recent events was certain of her capitulation. He could allow her the small concession of choosing the day. He placed the letter on the table and started to turn away.

“You may choose any day you wish, Richard,” Beth’s voice came coolly from behind him. “I will not be accompanying you.”

He turned back, hardly able to believe what he had heard. He had been sure she was cowed. But there she stood brazenly facing him, her head thrown back defiantly. He felt his rage rise, fired by the brandy he had consumed that evening.

“Read the letter,” he said curtly. “We will discuss it in the morning.”

He was halfway through the door when he felt the touch on his back. He looked back at her. She had reached across to the table and now held the letter in her hand. She had touched him with it to attract his attention, and she now held it out to him.

“I don’t need to read the letter, Richard,” she said, her voice soft, although her eyes still flashed. “I cannot come with you. But I’ve been to see Mr Cox, and he has assured me that...”

Richard slammed the door shut. The blood roared in his ears, blocking out her last words. All he knew was that she was still intent on defying him, and that she had had the temerity to go to the lawyer and discuss his financial affairs without asking his permission. By God, he would not tolerate this from a woman! On impulse he reached forward and gripped her round the waist with both hands, lifting her bodily off the floor and throwing her backwards.

She landed in the middle of the bed in a tangle of arms and legs, and before she could recover he had leapt on top of her, grasping her wrists and forcing them above her head. He leaned up, supporting his upper body on his arms, pushing hers into the mattress and making her cry out in pain as the fragile bones of her wrists took his weight. He adjusted his position so that he was sitting astride her, her lower body pinioned by his, one heavily muscled thigh on each side of her legs, crushing them together.

He was as surprised as she was by his reaction. When he had gripped her waist, he had intended to strike her, but was now glad he hadn’t. He was enjoying the feel of her slender body struggling futilely beneath his, her eyes wide, pupils dilated with fear and pain, a great improvement on the defiance of moments ago. He felt the rush of adrenaline that always coursed through him when he inflicted pain combining with the alcohol, and he smiled.

Beth sensed his pleasure, and stopped struggling. She fought to bring her ragged breathing under control, but her chest heaved, drawing his attention. He looked down at her breasts, the nipples clearly visible through the thin cotton, and felt her arms tense as she instinctively tried to bring them down to cover herself.

“Richard,” she started, then hesitated, having no idea how she was going to appease him, apart from promising to visit Isabella. “You are drunk,” she said, smelling the brandy fumes on his breath. “Let me go, and we will talk about this in the morning, as you suggested.”

“No,” he said firmly. “We will talk about it now. I have been giving some thought to your curious reluctance to see sense. My plan is the only sensible course of action open to us if we’re to avoid a life of penury. And yet in spite of all my persuasion you will not see reason. I begin to wonder if there is not another cause for your obstinacy.”

What on earth was he talking about? She looked up at him, puzzled. She tugged experimentally at her wrists, to no avail.

“I have told you why I won’t visit them,” she said. “I have asked Mr Cox if he can find a way to release the money you need to purchase the officer’s commission you want. He’s promised to do his best.”

Richard snorted dismissively.

“I have already discussed that with him. There is little hope. And even if he did find a way to get me my commission, I would still have to try to live, and keep you, on two hundred pounds a year, which is not enough. The life of an officer is not cheap, if he wishes to participate fully in the society of his fellow gentlemen. No, like it or not, sister, you are going to swallow your pride.”

“You cannot ask this of me, Richard, it is too much,” she said, looking up at him desperately.

“Are you virgin, sister?” he asked suddenly, startling her.

“What?” she gasped.

“Only it seems to me that you must have more reason than pure pride for being so recalcitrant. Your behaviour since I arrived has left me in grave doubts as to your purity.”

“How dare you question my virtue?” she shouted, outraged. She pulled with all her might to free her hands from his grasp, but he took no notice of her struggles.

“I think I have every reason to question your virtue,” he replied conversationally, sitting back on his haunches and lifting her arms from the bed. Deftly he transferred both her wrists to one hand and forced them back to the mattress above her head. “After all, when I first saw you, you were riding around the countryside in a state of considerable disarray. Then I come home unexpectedly and catch you with a half-naked stable boy.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he put one finger warningly on her lips. “Then last night I find you wandering around the house in your shift. Who were you going to meet?”

“I told you what I was doing,” she said icily. “My virtue is intact, and you know it.”

“No, I don’t,” he replied. “But I am about to find out.”

He shifted his weight suddenly, driving his knees between hers and using his free hand to pull her shift up to her waist. He forced her legs apart and then angled his legs so that one knee was across each of her thighs, splaying her legs outwards. He sat back and she cried out in pain as his knees dug into the soft flesh of her inner thighs.

He looked down at her most intimate parts deliciously exposed to his view, and drew in a sharp breath. She writhed in panic, tearing at her wrists, thrashing her head from side to side on the mattress. Lust coursed through his blood and he stiffened, his erect penis pushing against the linen of his shirt. He reached up impulsively and pulled hard at the top of her shift. The worn fabric gave way, and he folded back the edges to expose her perfect breasts.

“Oh God,” he breathed in awe. He traced the curve of her breast with one finger, trying to hold on to the fact that she was his sister, which the lust threatened to drive from his mind. He pulled his thoughts with difficulty back to what he intended to do. He did genuinely have doubts as to her virginity, although they were not as strong as he made out. But now he had her at his mercy, he might as well find out for certain.

He moved his hand back down her body, and gently stroked at the soft golden curls. Then slowly, carefully, he slid one questing finger between her legs.

She arched from the bed, writhing and struggling like one possessed, almost succeeding in freeing her arms in her desperation. He tightened his grip on her wrists and felt the bones grind together. Then he withdrew his finger, and reaching up, gripped hold of one nipple hard between his thumb and index finger and twisted it viciously. She screamed in agony, and he let go, clapping his hand over her mouth to stifle the cry.

“Be still!” he commanded, and for the first time in her life she obeyed him instantly, to his immense satisfaction. “I wish only to discover for myself if you are pure. If you struggle like that, you are in danger of taking your own virginity.” He removed his hand from her mouth, and she remained silent and rigid, as he carefully inserted one finger, slowly moving deeper, until he felt the delicate obstruction that told him all his hopes were still intact. He withdrew a little, feeling the slight rush of moisture as her body prepared itself automatically to receive him. He met her desperate, pleading gaze, saw the tears trickling down the side of her face into her hair, and was lost.

She saw his control snap, his eyes glaze with lust, and for the first time was truly terrified of him. She realised with horrifying clarity that she was about to be raped by her own brother, and that unless a miracle happened she was helpless to stop him.

All he was aware of was that he had to have her, but that he could not take her in the usual way. Suddenly decided, he put his hand underneath her, lifting her buttocks and driving first one finger, then two, deep inside her. He felt the anal muscle contract, then give way to the pressure, and he sighed with ecstasy. He would hardly know the difference, and she would still be virgin afterwards. She tensed at the invasion of her body, and closed her eyes. When she opened them a moment later he was staring at her breasts, eyes rapt, his breathing harsh and shallow.